


Pay To Play (Piece Of Your Action)

by quiznakeries



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 1980’s AU, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, I love that tag, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Size Difference, thirst at first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiznakeries/pseuds/quiznakeries
Summary: Keith huffed a quiet laugh, and finally managed to look away from the walking and talking wet dream standing next to him. He picked up the shot of amber liquid waiting for him on the bar, tipping the little glass back and forth. “What’s your name?”The man cocked his head in surprise, curiosity. “Shiro.”“Well Shiro,” Keith brought the shot to his lips and tipped his head back. The stranger watched him slam the glass back on the bar, and Keith smirked before he spoke again. “Your band sucks.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely touched the prompt sue me 
> 
> Thanks to Murph and C for solving my band naming issues, I’m sorry I didn’t get Coran Coran in there 😔
> 
> Fanart for this AU:  
> cuddlewuddlebug (BUGGGG thank you for this, the boys look so goooood <3): https://twitter.com/cuddlewuddlepug/status/1254940140881018883?s=20

**Pay to play**

_ Prompt 6: Making fun of each other _

  
  


The alley behind Altea always smelled like piss and weed. It was dingy and damp and the only light available was the blue and pink neon sign bolted to the roof of the building, and whatever light managed to fight its way in from the street. There was a dumpster, a filthy plastic patio chair, too many empty spray paint cans to count, and an old and rickety spiral staircase to the roof. 

The painted brick wall vibrated with the pounding base from inside, and Keith chuckled through a smoky exhale.

“God this band  _ blows _ .” 

Matt snorted in response, capping the marker in his hand after doodling a mustache on the latest graffiti cartoon that’d showed up on the opposite wall during the week.

“You know, I’m actually friends with their lead guitarist.” 

“Yeah? I’m sorry.” Keith took another long drag of his cigarette. Matt squinted at him, and he felt the need to specify. “Wish you had some better friends.”

He flashed Matt a toothy grin, and his band mate gave him a tired glare. 

“You say that now, tuts.” Matt wiggled a finger at him, a smirk playing on his lips as he made his way over to Keith. He stepped into his space, pursed his lips and waited for Keith to pass him the cigarette. Keith handed it over without fuss, and stuck his thumbs in his pockets of his jacket. He looked Matt over expectantly, knowing there were words waiting on his mischievous tongue. 

He finished off the cigarette, leaving the cherry to burn out on the ground as he hooked an arm in Keith’s and dragged him away from the wall.

“Just wait until you meet the guy, and we’ll see.”

—

  
  


Altea was one of the most infamous clubs on the strip, and the home of more than one band that’d gone and made it big in the past few years. It was constantly over crowded, packed with freaks riding whatever their choice of poison was. They’d bang their heads to the live music, dance and prance and stumble on stiletto heels.

Everyone at Altea wanted to be something more than they were. It was why they were there, a mess of makeup and sticky hairspray to go with the leather and the nylon and the band shirts they’d printed in their folks basements.

Keith had never been much of a people person, but Altea felt like home. Most people there, they were just like him. Either they came from nothing, and were trying to find their way to give the society that screwed them over the finger. Or, they came from too much, breaking free from the shackles of people's expectations. Keith himself, belonged to the first category. When he left his last foster home at fifteen, he’d stolen the dad’s guitar and taken off in the middle of the afternoon. He’d hitchhiked his way from Arizona to California with nothing but that old steel string slung over his back. No one ever came looking for him, and he spent the following year crashing wherever he found shelter, spending sleepless nights learning how to pluck on his guitar.

It was around Christmas, the year he turned sixteen, that he ended up in the right place at the right time. He’d been playing for change outside a diner on Sunset Strip, and earned himself enough to treat himself to a hot meal at the end of the day. He sat in the window at that diner, watching the LA nightlife come together in the streets. It was his favorite part, it was why he hung out there in the first place. No night on the strip was ever the same, with the wild and rowdy creatures roaming around out there, bouncing between bars and causing riots. 

Perhaps it should have scared him, as a kid alone in the city. But Keith had never been a typical kid.

That night, though, he’d get a taste of the Sunset chaos for the first time. With the holidays coming up, Garret’s Diner was short on staff. It was just the owners kid, Hunk, and the night shift fry cook manning the place when Keith came in to place his order. The Garret’s has tried and failed multiple times to feed him without charge, and each time Keith had refused, shoved the money at them and stormed out. So they stopped offering him free meals, but if Mrs Garret would throw in a piece of apple pie or a milkshake Keith hadn’t ordered, he let it slide. Besides, they let him spend all day playing tunes outside their door.

Keith made some awkward small talk with Hunk when he came in, but once he’d seated himself at his usual table overlooking the street, he was left alone. He shoveled down his burger and home fries in minutes, practically inhaling his first and last meal of the day. The steaming cup of hot chocolate that cake after, though, he savored. Not only because it was too hot to pour down his throat, but because it gave him a valid excuse to stay. Even if he knew no one would throw him out, the oversized mug was like an anchor he needed not to get antsy about it.

He was still there when a group of guys, maybe in their early thirties, barreled into the diner in an odor cloud of alcohol and sweat. It wasn’t anything new, this was the clientele the place signed on for, serving food on the Strip, this near the biggest clubs and bars. But Hunk was a soft guy, fifteen years old and overall too nice for his job.

Things turned to shit in less than fifteen minutes.

At first, Keith figured he’d stay out of it. It wasn’t his place to butt in on a bunch of rowdy customers. But as things progressed, and Keith watched one of the guys starting to climb the bar top, screaming something about coffee that didn’t make a crap of sense, with Hunk turning pale behind the counter, he couldn’t do it. Keith was up and out of his seat, grabbing the guy by the collar of his jacket and pulling him back before he even knew what he was doing. The guy fell to the floor with a yelp, and began to scramble to get up with curses pouring out of his mouth. Keith bent over him to grab him by the tacky necklace dangling around his neck, one of his boots finding very threatening purchase on the drunk idiot’s crotch.

“You’re getting the fuck out of here.” He spat, and dug his heel down hard enough to make the guy jolt. “And you’re taking your ugly ass friends with you.”

If they’d been in their right minds, perhaps the morons would have taken notice to the guy threatening to kick their asses was a scrawny teenager. Luckily for Keith, they didn’t seem to realize that much, and the lot of them tumbled out the door in seconds flat.

On the other side of the counter, the fry cook popped his head out to see what all the ruckus was about, just in time to catch Hunk when his knees gave out.

Keith had a night job three days a week, after that. And the Garret’s set him up to set up camp in the diners basement.

—-

Now, six years had passed. And even if he still stopped by the diner for breakfast at least twice a week, Keith had built a new life for himself. Most of the money he ever made working for the Garret’s went into paying for his two guitars. He still had that first one, technically, although it’d been repurposed as a top for a coffee table. The guitars he played, he’d worked hard to get. They were the first things he saw when he woke up, and the last before he fell asleep. A candy apple red Fender strat, a modern classic he truly loved, and a Dangelico Deluxe - with a matte wine and cream finish and so beautifully crafted he’d spent hours just staring at it after first bringing it home.

The instruments were the whole reason they kept a deadbolt on their door, really. He and his roommates lived in a shitty three bedroom apartment, with flaking walls and plumbing so bad they all made a point of trying to shower elsewhere. 

It was a dump, but it was theirs. And the landlord didn’t give a rats ass if they played music loud enough to shake the building off its foundation twenty four seven.

And for work, somehow, without sucking anyone’s dick or anything, he’d landed himself a job at Altea. The pay was fair, and he didn’t mind dealing with wasted girls trying to sneak themselves a free shot by flashing their tits every once in a while. Little did they know, the only one that trick worked on was the sassy girl with the glasses manning the other half of the bar most nights. They’d bonded over that, drunk on Galliano and cleaning the stage floor at six in the morning after Keith just started the job. Pidge had smacked him in the face with the mop, laughed and said “So you don’t like girls! Good for you! Or good for me, is what I mean. Hey do you have a place to stay?”

And that’s how Keith became roommates with Pidge and her friend Lance, and also how he’d go on to meet her older brother Matt and eventually join his band.

Keith had never been in a band before, but he didn’t tell them that. When he struggled to adapt and keep track of every other instrument for the first few weeks, Matt was the only one who said anything. Later, it’d turned out the others just thought he was high and needed some time to get it in. He just needed to get it in. But if it helped his case to let them think he was on dope, he was fine with that.

It was Thursday and Keith had the night off, but he was at Altea nonetheless. Because Thursday was Pay To Play-night, and Keith hadn’t missed it once since getting old enough not to slip in through the back door. Pay To Play-nights were the nights when all the wannabe rock stars came out to try and make a name for themselves. You paid the club fifty bucks to take the stage for forty five minutes, and if the club raised enough cash on entrance fees you got it back. It was in everyone’s best interest to be there, to keep the ball rolling and earning yourself the opportunity to play.

Keith and his band played the week before, scoring the best slot of the night starting at midnight. They’d played a new song for the first time in a while, and Keith got so drunk afterwards he woke up in a bathtub at some friend of Matt’s house. They got their money back, too. It was the clubs best Thursday in weeks. 

Seven nights later he was letting himself be dragged through the back and into the mass of moving bodies inside the club. There, the air was dense. Full of artificial smoke, sweat, beer and hair products. The stage set flashed in shades of green and white, but with the jumping crowd and his own lack of interest in building up a sweat over a band that bad, he didn’t see the people on it. Instead, he detangled himself from Matt and headed over to the bar. It always felt good, being on the other side and watching his coworkers try to keep up with the thirsty patrons. Pidge spotted him soon enough, and she didn’t bother to slide over and take an order. Less than a minute later, a bottle of IPA and a shot of bourbon slammed down on the glossy bartop in front of him, and his roommate disappeared in a flash of sandy brown hair to continue serving people who might actually tip her.

A few minutes later, the band on stage stepped off. The silence lasted all about ten seconds before the speakers started blasting Midnite Maniac by Krokus. Keith was glad for the change, if he had to listen to one more song with that screechy singer he might just have pulled his hair out. He took a swig from his beer, and watched Pidge and Rolo hustle behind the bar. People came and went around him, putting orders in, receiving, leaving. He didn’t really pay attention, until the tell-tale smell from the smoke machine crept up his nose. He looked over to his right, where a man about twice Keith’s size just dropped his elbows on the bar. Besides from being huge, the guy had a post gig glow Keith knew too well, paired with a sheen of sweat making the bulge of his exposed arms shine. He was attractive as hell, and Keith had seen him before. It wasn’t often in these crowds he’d spot someone so fucking stacked. Skinny had always been rock ‘n roll norm. Which was a shame, because men like this one made Keith’s toes curl in his boots just from looking.

He watched the guy ask Rolo for a beer, a neatly folded bill waiting to be snatched from between his fingers. His hair reached just past his shoulders. Black, glossy and soft looking. No bad perms on this guy. Keith never noticed it before, how a wide streak of his bangs were white. Or maybe it was new. The leather pants looked painted on, and Keith wondered how much it would take for the seams to tear under all that muscle. If they’d snap if Keith got him on his knees. 

The stranger accepted a bottle from Rolo, tattooed fingers curling around the neck. Keith knew he’d been caught staring, saw the way this guy tried to get a look at him from the corner of his eye. Keith didn’t bother trying to hide it, or looking away. If he was already busted, he might as well get his fill. He can’t tear his eyes off, once the man turns to face him, and thus displays his entire naked torso for Keith to gawk at. Apparently, wearing a shirt under the denim vest was too much. Not that Keith was complaining. Tattoos of varying quality were scattered all over the guy’s very broad, very defined chest and trim, surprisingly narrow waist. A flimsy scarf hung around his neck, and Keith itched to grab it, use it as a damn leash for the beast he hoped this man to be.

“Hey.” the guy spoke, and fuck his voice was deep and smooth. “Catch the show?”

Keith huffed a quiet laugh at that, and finally managed to look away. He picked up the shot of amber liquid waiting for him on the bar, tipping the little glass back and forth. “What’s your name?”

The man cocked his head in surprise, curiosity. “Shiro.”

“Well Shiro,” Keith brought the shot to his lips and tipped his head back. The stranger watched him slam the glass back on the bar, and Keith smirked before he spoke again. “Your band sucks.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs, but there was an amused sparkle in his eye. Keith wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else making his belly run hot when Shiro leaned into his space, a soft smile on his lips.

“And Space Case is a stupid band name.” Shiro sounded sickly sweet, pulling the rug out under Keith’s feet with the stab at Keith’s own band. “But I wouldn’t tell you that and risk hurting your feelings.”

Keith scoffed, absentmindedly twisting his fingers in the scarf that’d brushed against his hand when Shiro leaned in. “I’m a big boy, I could take it.”

Shiro’s eyes darted down from Keith’s face to where he was playing with his scarf, and he had to restrain himself from physically reacting to the shift in Shiro’s expression. When he tilted his head up he was closer than before, noses less than an inch apart and warm breaths colliding. Keith’s heart pounded in his chest, and he flashed a pleased smile in response to the wolfish grin Shiro was hitting him with.

\--

  
  


If possible, Shiro looked even better in the dim blue light of the alley. Or maybe it was just the way his eyes had blown dark, or the ridiculous show of strength when he lifted Keith up by the thighs that made him all that much more attractive. 

Whatever.

Keith hooked his legs around Shiro, back pressed to the brick wall. He didn’t even care if the leather of his jacket got scratched. Indulging his earlier fantasy, he grabbed Shiro by the scarf and pulled him in. They didn’t leave room for buildup, and Keith was tingly with giddy satisfaction finding Shiro just as keen to skip to the good stuff as he was. The kiss was filthy from the start, forceful tongues and teeth. Shiro squeezed Keith’s ass through his jeans, and Keith pawed at the naked torso under his hands, the shoulders, neck. When Shiro’s warm hands came up to run over his bare belly and up beneath his cropped shirt, Keith scrambled to twist his fingers in Shiro’s hair. In the cool night air, Keith’s nipples were already hard, poking through the thin fabric doing a crappy job covering him, and Shiro’s fingers drew to them like magnets. Keith moaned into the kiss, arching into Shiro’s pinching motions without shame and tightening his legs around his waist. He’d always been sensitive, and the slight pain spiking through him at the ceaseless touch was fucking perfect. Shiro was riling him up so fast, Keith was already dizzy with it, heat pooling steadily at the bottom of his belly.

In a matter of minutes, Keith was squirming against the wall, trying to bring Shiro closer even as they were flush together. He tried rolling his hips against Shiro’s taut stomach, but there wasn’t much friction to get like this. Breaking the kiss to tuck his face in Shiro’s neck, he fumbled for one of those big hands. He tugged on Shiro’s wrist, guiding him to where Keith was straining in his pants, and gasped into Shiro’s skin once he got him where he wanted him. Quiet moans bubbled out of him as Shiro palmed him through his pants, his other hand still thumbing at one of Keith’s nipples in firm little circles.

He could have come like that. Easily, given the chance.

Shiro pressed a little harder against him, shifting his hips to grind the hardon trapped in leather against Keith, making him whimper.

“God,  _ Keith _ .” 

Keith startled out of the fog of his oncoming orgasm with a jolt, using his hold on Shiro’s hair to wrench the guys head back. He looked like a dream, meeting Keith’s gaze with alarm written all over his handsome face.

“You know my name.” Keith said, sounding dumb even to his own ears. 

“Yeah?”

“I never told you my name.” 

Shiro’s wide eyes softened a bit, a small smile shaping his swollen lips. 

“Yes, you did.” Keith searched his memory, but he was so damn sure, at no point that night had he actually introduced himself. But Shiro just lifted his legs off himself, set Keith back on his heels and looked at him with the same evil little smirk he’d worn at the bar. “I asked you, when I found you sleeping in my tub last week.”

Keith’s mouth fell open, a barely audible “oh” passing through his lips. So they had met before, beyond Keith checking Shiro out from his side of the bar. He just didn’t remember.

Shiro gave a hearty chuckle, taking a step back but threading his fingers with Keith’s to pull him along by the hand. Keith went with it, following the retreating warmth of Shiro’s body. He wanted it back on him, all over like before he burst the stupid bubble. Thankfully, Shiro didn’t seem to have any plans on letting him go just yet.

He took another step backwards, down the alley towards the street. Keith let himself be tugged along, took an extra step to close the distance and almost stepped on Shiro’s toes. He leaned in to slot their lips together again, to revel in the spark of heat it ignited inside of him. Shiro lifted his free hand to cradle Keith’s face in his palm, gentler and sweeter than any of their touches yet. 

Then he pulled back, meeting Keith’s eyes.

“Let me take you home?”

Shiro seemed to take the amused noise leaving Keith’s throat as enough of an answer. 

As if Keith would even consider saying no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll probably add a second part where they get nasty so keep an eye out for that if you enjoyed 🙏🖤💦
> 
> I’m @/quiznakeries on Twitter, let’s talk about filthy sheith business.
> 
> For the curious, here are Keith’s guitars:
> 
> [Fender Deluxe Strat](https://m.thomann.de/se/fender_deluxe_strat_hss_pf_car.htm?o=0&search=1587856745)
> 
> &
> 
> [Dangelico](https://m.thomann.de/se/dangelico_deluxe_brighton_ltd_matte_wine.htm?o=8&search=1587832924)


	2. Piece of your action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It almost didn’t matter Shiro didn’t know to tune his damn guitar properly before hitting the stage. As long as he could twist and tighten other stuff, Keith could see past it.
> 
> Probably.
> 
> Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the Motley Crue-song with the same name.
> 
>   
> All my good vibes go to [CruelisnotMason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/works) for being such an awesome beta, you're a peach!

**Piece of your action**

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Would you like the grand tour or do we go straight to the tub?”

Keith balled up his jacket and threw it at Shiro, who caught it with a bark of laughter followed by a theatrical pout.

It’d been the main conversation subject while making it to Shiro’s place, mostly because Keith couldn’t believe his brain had betrayed him so much as to forgetting spending time with this guy before.

As it turned out, that wasn’t the case.

Shiro’s roommate was a friend of a friend, somewhere down the line, and it was that guy Keith and Matt had ended up crashing with when six a.m. rolled around and they were too wasted and tired to make it home. Shiro wasn’t with them at all that night, having spent the last few days with his parents in Ohio. 

He’d come straight home from the airport early Friday morning, because the odd hour flights were the cheapest, and stumbled right upon a boozy stranger snoring in his bathtub.

“Very funny.” Keith deadpanned, and closed the distance between them in two hasty strides. He set his hands on Shiro’s bare chest, urging him to move backwards toward the couch. His skin was still cool from the night breeze, but warming quickly under Keith’s palms as he kneaded the guy’s pecs with an appreciative hum. It was insane, how attractive Shiro was.

It almost didn’t matter Shiro didn’t know to tune his damn guitar properly before hitting the stage. As long as he could twist and tighten other stuff, Keith could see past it.

Probably.

Mostly.

“I’m usually pretty funny.” Shiro flashed him a cheeky grin, falling back on the couch when Keith gave him a shove. 

How it was possible for a pair of grey eyes to radiate such heat, Keith couldn’t understand. But they did, and it was enticing enough for him to get pulled in and straddle Shiro’s meaty thighs in a heartbeat, even if the suggestive ‘come hither’ motion of his fingers and waggling eyebrows looked really fucking stupid. His jeans pulled tight with the stretch just spreading his legs enough to accommodate Shiro’s size between them. The thought made his blood sizzle, and he tugged hard on Shiro’s scarf to bring him in for a kiss.

Shiro chuckled into his mouth, hands sliding up the length of Keith’s thighs and squeezing. His teeth snagged on Keith’s bottom lip, tugging just hard enough to make him twitch at the sting and coax a soft noise to escape his throat.

Keith could practically feel Shiro’s self assured flare. How he swallowed the sound like a mouthful of sweet wine.

Much like it had been back at the club, their kiss was urgent, and heavy. Shiro rolled his tongue past Keith’s teeth and sucked the breath right out of his lungs, steady hands guiding his hips into a filthy grind he couldn’t feel ashamed of if he tried. But unlike at the club, the clacks of teeth and wet smacks of lips coming apart was more prominent , without the thundering music enveloping them. It wasn’t the same like this, without the grit and smoke and neon light. This was more intimate, more personal.

Keith didn’t really do personal, much.

But he’d make due for this man. This twice-his-size, sex-on-legs of a man he’d wanted to sink his teeth into since the first time he caught sight of him some time ago.

He pawed at the denim collar of Shiro’s vest, pushing the scrappy piece of clothing past massive shoulders, biceps. When Shiro’s hands left his hips to slip the garment off, he just suppressed the urge to whine. He wasn’t  _ that _ easy. 

He wasn’t.

But it was getting to be a near thing, with Shiro’s surprisingly deft fingers moving on to undoing his jeans and slipping past the hem. Cold fingertips dug hard into his skin, groping his ass and picking up the rocking motion of his hips again. The leather pants were ridiculously snug on Shiro, but Keith definitely felt it, the increasing pressure of Shiro’s dick hardening under the friction. Heat washed over him, pooling low in his belly as he began to chase it, the outline of Shiro’s cock under layers of clothing. He broke the kiss to stifle yet another sound, biting down on his lip. It was swollen, and tender from when Shiro sunk his teeth into it.

It was a bad move. Or a great one, he really wasn’t sure anymore.

With his lips unoccupied, Shiro was free to run his mouth.

“Look at you.” His voice was getting breathy, husky, mouth slightly open in a knowing smirk that was only mildly devastating. “Not so tough now, Space Case.”

Apparently that did it for him, a pathetic little sound slipping past his teeth and making the bastard under him  _ chuckle _ .

“What’s so bad, Keith? Against your code of self preservation to make noise when you feel good?”

His words had Keith’s stomach in knots. Not just because he sounded stupid hot, lips drawing a line down Keith’s throat as he spoke into his skin, but because of how profoundly true they were. This was nothing but a hookup with a slightly annoying stranger. Shiro wasn’t supposed to see through him, be this attentive, call him out like this.

“Don’t you ever just  _ shut up _ ?” He tried to snarl, but his voice had little bite. Before Shiro could hit him with whatever smart mouth answer he had, Keith pulled back, and tugged his cropped t-shirt over his head. It disappeared behind the couch, somewhere, Keith didn’t pay attention. He’d find it later. He was too busy watching Shiro’s eyes widen, and feeding the flame there by arching his back, slinging his arms around Shiro’s neck. He leaned into Shiro, brushing their noses together in the ghost of a kiss. “I like your mouth much better kissing me than when you talk.”

“See I’m not so sure you mean that.” Shiro said, sounding almost perfectly conversational, but at the same time sliding his hands quickly up Keith’s body to grab him by the waist and  _ haul _ him up. With a startled curse, Keith got slung over Shiro’s shoulder and the back of the couch, far enough for his knees to leave the cushion and leave him kicking helplessly. He could touch the floor with his fingers if he tried, dangling like a rag doll. It took him a moment to understand what was going on, to register those quick fingers starting to tug his jeans and underwear down his thighs. A new wave of arousal made his head spin, and he had to take a steadying breath just to regain enough sense to kick his high heeled boots off. 

It can’t have looked sexy. But it sure felt it.

When his pants finally joined his shoes and socks on the floor, Keith expected to be pulled back down, for Shiro to make a stupid point of looking him in the face and coo or whatever at the fiery red blush he was probably sporting at that point.

But Shiro didn’t do that. Instead, Keith felt his hands on him, caressing his legs from the backs of his knees to his ass, a repeated motion that by every feathery slide up dipped a little further on the inside of his thighs, pressing and squeezing all the while. 

It was a little embarrassing, being that exposed. But once Keith felt Shiro’s warm breath fanning the crease where he was bent over the couch, just as those fingers spread his cheeks wide to prod at his hole, he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. 

Shiro hummed against his skin, planting a chaste kiss there while circling his entrance with rough fingertips. “I think you like me talking plenty.” 

“You’re ruining this.” 

He was outright lying at that point, and the urge to make his pride walk the plank was becoming more tempting with every breath he had to try and control because the hottest guy on the strip was touching his naughty places like he owned them.

But he started this, and Keith was nothing if not stubborn beyond reason.

He rolled his hips down, seeing if he could make Shiro get on with it, and to his delight Shiro didn’t retreat, didn’t ease up on his touch. He met Keith’s movements without fuss, letting him feel the hard press of his fingers teasing Keith’s rim for a few moments. Until he shifted, lined one calloused fingertip up with Keith’s hole, and pressed in on Keith’s next downward roll.

Keith thought he was ready for it, but the feeling still somehow caught him by surprise. His breath caught in his throat, blood rushing to his dick that was already rock hard and caught against the scratchy couch cushion. It was too dry, but all previous attention had done a good job getting his body to relax, allowing Shiro to sink in to the knuckle without any discomfort on Keith’s part. 

His hips twitched when Shiro wiggled his finger slightly, making him rock down, chase that feeling. Keith’s body adjusted to the intrusion quickly enough, and got to the point of craving more was a quick thing.

“Fuck-“ Just the mental image of himself spread wide on Shiro’s fingers, so much thicker and longer than his own, was enough to make his eyes flutter shut, out the hairs on his neck on end. “Do you have-?”

“Mm, bedroom.” Shiro hummed, preoccupied with sucking bruises on Keith’s hip, waist, wherever he could reach in their increasingly impractical position.

Keith huffed, and shifted to get leverage enough to hoist himself up, but was cut short in his attempt when Shiro, with far too little effort, rose from the couch with Keith still slung across his shoulder.

“Holy-“ The word leaves him in a punched out breath. “Warn a guy.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Shiro carried him like it was nothing, crossing the living area and moving down the hall at a brisk pace. 

“Show off,” Keith muttered. “I can walk just fine myself.”

Not that he minded much, hands splayed out and feeling every shift of muscle on Shiro’s broad, tattooed back. It was one big piece, involving dragons and at least one to Keith foreign language, but he couldn’t really focus on it. Didn’t really care, right then and there.

“Sure.” Shiro turned a doorknob with one hand, pinched Keith’s buttcheek hard enough for him to jolt with the other. “For now.”

It was so fucking corny. Not to mention overly confident. But Keith’s brain had long since betrayed him and just let the words turn him to mush. 

Everything was sort of foggy already, from hanging upside down for minutes and heavy arousal. So suddenly being thrown and bouncing down on a squeaky mattress was all sorts of disorienting. He didn’t mind, though. Especially not when his eyes refocused to find Shiro standing between his legs, haloed by warm lamp light, soft locks tucked behind his ears and eyes blown dark.

Keith watched him, took in the stunning image of bulging muscle and handsome features as Shiro turned to dig through the bedside drawer. He took the opportunity to trace the folds and crevices in the leather still covering Shiro’s crotch, the old school lace up front instead of a zipper. The bulge of the guy’s straining cock gave little away with the backlight and tight fit of the trousers, honestly, and it made Keith’s curiosity spike so much more. He heard the click of a bottle cap, saw in the corner of his eye as a bright yellow condom packet landed somewhere on the sheets next to him, and took a long breath.

Shiro turned back to him with that dumb smirk, and grabbed him by the ankle with the hand not glistening with lube. Perhaps Keith should have started getting used to Shiro’s ability and tendency to throw him around, but it didn’t stop his dick from pulsing when the guy slung his leg over a strong shoulder and proceeded to bend him almost in half. Again.

“You look so good.” Shiro looked down at him from above, eyes traveling from his tipped back head and down, down to where Shiro had him on full display. He steadied himself, hovering over Keith with one arm on the bed to hold him up, while the other smeared a long line of cold liquid down his perineum. Keith pointedly refused to look Shiro in the eye when that made him gasp, eyelids squeezing shut.

“Oh, c’mon Keith,” Shiro teased, dipping down to let their lips brush, and began to push a slick finger past Keith’s rim much too slowly. Shiro slid in as far as he could go, keeping up that torturous slowness when he pulled back as well. Like he was waiting for Keith to break. “Just make some noise for me. I know you want to.”

A second finger joined the first for the next push, stretching and rubbing against his walls. The stretch was nice, but the pace would drive him out of his mind in minutes. He was too far gone to go slow, too pent up for patience. He’d been ready to pop since the alley, and he’d be damned if Shiro was going to mess with him like this. 

He rolled his hips, rutting down on the fingers scissoring him open carefully, and dragged blunt fingernails down Shiro’s back. Shiro let him. He tried to get the angle right, make Shiro press against the good spots, hit him where he needed it. And for a brief moment, he thought he’d get what he wanted, breath catching in his throat as Shiro brushed against his prostate.

But then the bastard  _ changed his angle _ . 

He had to bite down on a needy whine, turning his head away from Shiro’s and cursing how his body responded to being teased like this, how it could set him aflame to be toyed with by a guy he didn’t even know. 

Shiro hummed, shifting to drop wet kisses along the line of his jaw, down his throat and leaving a trail of cooling saliva on Keith’s overheated skin that had goosebumps rise all over. It really wasn’t fair what this man was doing to him.

The two fingers inside him continued working on stretching him, curling and scissoring while rocking into him in barely there, shallow motions that carefully avoided his sweet spot. Shiro grazed the soft skin of Keith’s neck with his teeth, and Keith squirmed under him, eyes flying open and he half hoped Shiro wouldn’t notice but- 

The asshole’s lips stretched into a grin against his skin, and latched onto a patch of skin in the next breath. Keith grit his teeth as Shiro began to suck, warmth and wetness enveloping the sharp sting of blood rising into a pulsing bruise just underneath his skin. It was an unfortunate thing to love, getting and having marks. There was just something about it, a lingering act of claim that Keith couldn’t help but run hot for.

Once again, Shiro had hit the nail on the head.

Keith’s chest heaved in his attempt to control himself as Shiro socked a little harder, pain spiking and making Keith’s vision swim. He was totally unprepared, completely lost to sensation when Shiro chose that moment to add a third finger, one swift motion stretching and filling him too suddenly for him to handle.

“ _ Shit _ -” The curse turned into a soft moan, breathless as Shiro picked up his pace, thrust his fingers into him deeper. “Y-you- mmh…”

Arching into Shiro, Keith’s eyes rolled back into his head as the onslaught continued. Teeth nipping at the fresh bruise and laboured breath fanning over his neck, thick and impossibly long digits working him open so wide he wasn’t sure he’d ever been stretched so far. And once the dam was broken, stupid little sounds flowed freely past his lips with every well placed touch.

If Shiro was gloating, he wasn’t throwing it in Keith’s face just yet. It wasn’t what Keith expected, but he was glad. If anything it made it less humiliating, losing his footing like this without being called out on it. 

Shiro kept surprising him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

It was so much, pleasure sparking from all directions and making him shift and squirm, hands roaming the hard torso and trim waist hovering above. He thumbed at Shiro’s nipples, rubbing and pinching and reveling in the hitch and stutter in Shiro’s breath. He was going absolutely stupid, and Shiro didn’t even touch his dick yet.

“Main event, Shiro.” He managed to keep his voice fairly level as he spoke, rocking down on Shiro’s fingers pointedly. He was so hard he could cut diamonds, red and swollen and wet with pre ever since Shiro stepped up his game. They were so near now. After all this he’d hate himself if he burst before Shiro bounced him on his cock like they both needed.

Shiro made an affirmative noise, a rumbling thing from deep in his throat. More of a growl than anything. Keith soaked it up with a shiver, sighing softly as the solid body above retreated, as his leg slipped off Shiro’s shoulder. It was an instant cold, an uncomfortable emptiness when Shiro stood tall between his legs with both hands reaching for the tied laces criss-crossed over his crotch. Keith Perched himself up on his elbows, only then realizing Shiro was still trapped in those pants. A little wave of sympathy swooped in his chest, seeing the straining bulge that was bound to hurt after all this time. 

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was sitting upright, nudging Shiro’s hands off and starting to tug on the leather strings himself. Up so close, the outline he’d tried to make out earlier became much clearer, and fuck, if that didn’t make him speed up his work. He felt his heart leap to his throat, set on his prize and practically trembling before the trousers finally came apart. 

Fingers threaded in his hair, tugging lightly and making him look up. Shiro’s eyes were hooded and heavy, the previously annoying smirk back to curve his lips but appearing so much more appealing now. Shiro held his gaze as Keith tugged on leather, fumbling but determined as he wrapped his fist around the thick shaft and listened to Shiro’s pleased groan.

“Oh, w-”

Blood rushed in Keith’s ears, finally taking in the sight of Shiro’s cock weighing heavy in his hand. How the man had ever been able to keep that thing even remotely hidden in those pants was a mystery for another day, but Keith was completely entranced. Thick and long and purpling at the head after a long while of neglect, it was more than Keith had ever hoped for when pursuing the guy back at Altea.

“Wow?” Shiro chipped in to finish Keith’s thought, self assured as ever.

“ _ No _ .” Keith snapped, for no reason. It was his default to bitch back, he couldn’t help it.

Shiro’s hold on his hair tightened, forcing his head back to see him smiling. That wolfish grin that made Keith’s knees go weak hours earlier. He just caught a quick glance of it, before Shiro swooped down to grab him by the knees. With a yelp, Keith felt his body flip on the bed, warm hands manhandling him to lie on his stomach with his face in the pillows. Shiro followed quickly, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settled on his haunches between Keith’s legs.

Keith scrambled to get comfortable, stuffing a pillow under his chest to get his face up, hips falling for the temptation of rutting against the sheets as Shiro rolled the condom on. A soft moan left him when Shiro grasped his hips and hauled him onto his lap, thighs spreading wide.

“Just one more question for you, Keith.” Shiro sounded smug, but his voice was thick and heavy like molasses. Keith wasn’t the only one losing his cool. Still, Keith hated him for still playing this stupid game instead of getting on with it. His frustrated groan morphed into a keen when Shiro rubbed the blunt head of his cock against Keith’s stretched hole, wet and sloppy with excess lube and  _ aching _ . “Do you want this?”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” Keith hissed, rocking back against Shiro in a futile attempt to coax him in, to spear himself on Shiro’s cock if the damn guy wasn’t going to do it himself.

“It’s a yes or no question, baby.” 

“I-” Keith hesitated. He didn’t even know where he was going with fighting back, why his initial reaction was to deny his need just to- something. It made his heart pound, palms turning clammy just from being pushed to admit he wanted something he personally went to get in the first place. 

Shiro was really going to be his downfall.

Or perhaps he’d be the opposite.

“ _ Yes _ .” He spat the word out before he could change his mind. “I want it. Will you just fu-uhuh-”

Shiro pushed into him in one, long stroke that rattled Keith’s spine with the rapid bursts of pleasure from finally being stuffed full like he craved.

“Good. So good, Keith-” Shiro’s voice came out breathless, dripping with sex and heat while remaining still inside him just long enough to gather himself. His hands curled around Keith’s waist, strong and steady with Keith trembling in his hold.

Keith hummed, testing the waters by clenching down on the pulsing length stretching him beyond belief and feeling the pleasurable spark when the motion made Shiro’s hips jerk. It spurred him on, made him rock down on Shiro’s cock, urging him to move. To fuck him good. His sweat damp thighs caught on the leather still clinging to Shiro’s legs, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Shiro squeezed where he held him, holding tight to keep Keith still as he pulled out far enough for the flare of his head to snag on Keith’s rim. Keith fisted the sheets, breath caught in his throat for the terribly long seconds in which he waited. But Shiro didn’t disappoint, thrusting back in hard enough for the metal bed-frame to rattle. It punched a long moan from Keith, matched with a heated huff from the man setting the pace between his legs.

It made up for all the teasing, all the slow motion torture Shiro had put him through, when he finally built up the leverage and speed to positively rail him into the shitty mattress. Keith hiccuped and moaned, reaching a level of shamelessness completely uncharted to him previously. He found it enhanced his pleasure, letting the noises flow freely as Shiro pounded into him, hitting his prostate on every other stroke and making him rip at the sheets under his hands. 

The little friction he got from his cock brushing against Shiro was just enough to make him go mad, trying to wiggle his hips in Shiro’s iron grip but getting nowhere. All he could do was to hold on, take what Shiro gave him as the fast face grew punishing, arousal pooling low in his gut and bleeding into his veins. Shiro’s cock reached so deep, filled him up so indescribably well he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“God,  _ fuck _ , hah-”

He was babbling, vision tunneling down as he got closer to the edge, encouraged by Shiro’s punched out moans and grunts, and the sound of skin on skin filling his ears.. 

With little remaining strength, he pushed himself up on his elbows to get the leverage he needed to meet Shiro’s thrusts, and instantly found himself verging on  _ screaming  _ as the shift in angle made Shiro’s cock hit his prostate dead on. Shiro groaned appreciatively behind him, finally letting up on Keith’s hips and bringing him down hard on his length with the next stroke. The added strength did force that scream out of Keith, gasping for breath and trembling harder than ever as Shiro speared him on his cock.

He didn’t have the ability to voice any warning, too high on pleasure for words as his orgasm washed over him, cresting and expanding like liquid light in his marrow as he hiccuped high pitched noises and shook in Shiro’s hands. His cock twitched and pulsated, spilling hot and messy on Shiro’s lap. 

It was so good, it was so fucking good. Even as the high began to settle, his body lax and worn out with Shiro still fucking him through the building sensitivity, he never wanted it to end. He whimpered into the mattress, letting Shiro chase his end in his fluttering hole despite his body’s urge to arch away from the massive dick rubbing against his walls and making his hypersensitive cock slide and rut against warm leather. Shiro’s pace was turning erratic, all rhythm lost as he panted and cursed with his climax building quickly. Keith swore under his breath as Shiro pulled him down hard on his length, keeping him there as the dick inside him twitched and spilled into the condom.

A minute or so passed, where the two of them sucked in air that smelled like artificial lube and sweat and warm leather, reluctantly coming down to earth before Shiro pulled out and collapsed next to Keith on mismatched sheets. Keith turned his head to look at him, and felt himself twitch at the visual. Sweaty and flushed with his hair sticking to his face, Shiro was even more of a vision than he had been before.

His last coherent thought before slipping into unconsciousness, was that next time he took that cock, they’d have to be face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was fun!
> 
> \--
> 
> seeing your thoughts keeps me sane and loads my batteries, drop a comment? 🖤


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